


After

by cofax



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, burial logistics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-27
Updated: 2008-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cofax/pseuds/cofax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sam won't leave the body, not even long enough to get the god-damned car. </i>  Bobby and Sam, five minutes after the end of "No Rest for the Wicked".  Written for Destina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Destina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/gifts).



Sam won't leave the body, not even long enough to get the god-damned car. So Bobby leaves him there while he trots the three blocks, hoping like hell nobody's called the cops yet, because he's got no explanation for the blood all over his hands and arms from trying to wrestle Sam away from Dean. He's pretty sure something's broken in Sam, or maybe was breaking for these last few months and he just didn't notice.

 _Is there something wrong with my brother?_ Dean asked him, and Bobby said no, because what else was he supposed to say? God damn John Winchester, anyway, for teaching that boy that the way you showed your family you loved them was by dying for them.

Bobby keeps his weapon in one hand and the squirt-bottle in the other, but nothing jumps him, it's just a quiet spring night in suburbia, and he tracks holy water footprints down the sidewalks as he runs. His heart's thumping like a brass band when he gets to the car where it's tucked under a willow tree by a broken street lamp, but there's no time to rest. Just cause Dean's time ran out doesn't mean the clock isn't still ticking. Cops'll be coming as soon as those neighbors wake up, soaked to the skin and confused as hell.

He's not happy to realize he's right on that score: there are lights on in most of the surrounding houses when he pulls into the driveway, and the yard's empty of de-possessed suburbanites. Sam's squatting next to Ruby when Bobby gets back into the house, wrapping her hand around a blood-smeared kitchen knife. Smart thinking: if they can blame this whole thing on her, maybe the cops won't look too close at the rest of the evidence.

The homeowner's hovering in the kitchen, his eyes wide and shocky. Flies are settling on the food on the table--and the corpse of the old man, toppled face-first into a plate. Bobby grimaces and grabs the guy by the shoulder. "You tell 'em it was the girl out there, you got me? She had a gun, she held you hostage. That's all you know."

"But it wasn't--" sputters the man. "It was April, there was something inside her--"

"It's gone now, man," says Bobby, with half his attention in the other room where Sam's gone back to crouching over his brother's body. Whatever Lilith wanted, she got, and she's gone now. More than that, Sam won't say and Bobby doesn't have time to figure out. "Tell the cops someone came in, you hid when she left you, and that's all you know. You hear me? You don't know what happened."

Sirens are wailing. When Bobby steps back into the front room, avoiding the still-spreading pool of blood, Sam is tucking something into his pocket. His face, when he looks up at Bobby, is fixed and hard, despite the tears, snot and blood streaking his cheeks. "I'll carry him," Sam says, and shakes his head, lips thinning in determination, when Bobby reaches down to help. "No!" says Sam, fiercely, his eyes glittering; Bobby raises his hands in defeat and steps back.

"You wipe down the room?" Bobby asks, but Sam's doesn't hear him as he struggles with one hundred and ninety pounds of dead weight.

Both of Sam's arms get covered with blood as he hauls Dean up into his arms, cradling him against his chest. It's just 12:23, Bobby sees by the clock over the mantle, not even half an hour since Dean's death. The still-cooling blood drips onto the carpet as Sam navigates sideways through the doorway, and there's a thunk as Dean's feet knock against the wall. Bobby winces; but blue lights are flashing down the street now, there's no time for delicacy.

He hits the switch and the outside lights go off as Sam steps down the front stair. He's all shoulders in silhouette against the streetlight, Dean's arms and legs dangling, flopping. Probably still warm, Bobby thinks, and yanks at his cap.

They'll put Dean in the back seat of the Impala and Sam will drive carefully down shadowy highways in the soft night, serenaded by crickets and spring frogs. Bobby will take up the rear in his rust-bucket Chevelle, a two-car cortege. Taking Dean Winchester's body, at least, to its rest.

But Bobby fears that where Sam will lead them is nowhere he can follow.


End file.
